


love you in the way that you're needing love

by punkpete



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, a bit dark in the beginning, a couple parrish mentions uggggh, and emotions, but basically all of this takes place in stiles kitchen, go me for a General rating for once, lots of feels, only a scott and malia mention, this is the first thing ive written in ages that didnt contain a shit ton of smut or swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:14:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkpete/pseuds/punkpete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“‘M just thinking, that’s all.” He settles for, avoiding her eyes this time. She kicks him lightly in the ankle. </p><p>“About?” Lydia  asks, but her voice sounds much gentler this time.</p><p>“Everything. Nothing. You.” He admits, his breath catching in his throat a little.</p><p>“Why am I worth thinking about?” The tilt of her mouth looks a bit wry, and self-deprecating, her chin in the palm of her hand as she stares at him. Stiles won’t stand for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love you in the way that you're needing love

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first published fic for the teen wolf fandom in like years i had one on wattpad once but i never finished it so i deleted rip
> 
> anyway here have this shitty stydia thing which is the result of me crying about them being endgame in s6 and waiting with bated breath 
> 
> originally this was supposed to be a much shorter drabble but it got away from me just a little bit, hopefully it doesn't drag or seem rushed either way idk you tell me
> 
> song title is from compass by zella day which i swore id save for a larry fic because you know. those nautical assholes. but this song fits stydia so well pls cry with me.
> 
> u can find me on tumblr @ partyboylouis thank u for reading pls enjoy my emoness

>>>

Stiles is scared. At this point in his life, that’s not really anything out of the ordinary. But it’s not something he can just get used to. He knows some of it is his ever growing paranoia, and that for now everything is quiet. His PTSD continues to cloud his judgement, as well as plague his dreams. He doesn’t think that killing someone is something he’ll ever fully recover from. It wasn’t intentional. That’s the only thing he’s sure of. He tries to bury the way it felt when he had killed him. He was horrified by the feeling of sheer relief that had washed over him. It had almost felt _good._

That brings him back to a couple of years ago, when he was taken over by the nogitsune. He still considers that his darkest time, can remember everything that he had done, all the people that had gotten hurt or killed because of him. The guilt and anxiety surrounding that time is far from a distant memory. He remembers how it felt to drive that sword through Scott’s stomach, the pleasure he had taken in it blurring the lines of who he thought he was. He couldn’t be sure if the things he was feeling were him or the nogitsune, but he has this horrifying thought that maybe it was both, or maybe it had just been _him._

 

He knows he’s not the same person that he was years ago. He feels more like an imitation of his old self. He’s still awkward, and anxiety-ridden, maybe even more so now. But he’s not quite so optimistic, a smile on any of their faces these days seems rare. He’s not so...spastic, and all over the place. He thinks through what he’s going to do before he actually does it. He’d like to think he’s a little less of a reckless idiot these days.

 

But that doesn’t change how he feels about Lydia. That is one of the only constants in his life, besides his father. His dad had told him that if he saved someone, maybe that would balance everything back out. But he couldn’t get back the piece of his soul he had lost, not even the gratifying feeling of saving Lydia Martin could fix that. They’re all scrambling to get back to normal after the chaos that has been the first half of their senior year. All Stiles really cares about is all of them making it to graduation unharmed. He’s not really sure if they’ll ever get out of this town, and even if they do, chances are their problems would follow them.

 

Ever since he saved her, Lydia has been much more open and forthcoming. In turn, he’s been trying his best not to be closed off to her. Everything has felt too tangled together between them over the years, in a way that made things too complicated to solve. It finally felt like things were being untangled, so they could be re-woven together, the way that they should have been in the first place. He loves her. He has always loved her, even when she didn’t know who he was. When they had tentatively became friends, closer than he ever thought they’d be, he had been hopeful. After the kiss a couple of years ago, he thought things would be _different._ Instead, Lydia had ran in the opposite direction towards Aiden.

 

Stiles thinks it’s because she’s afraid of him. He realizes how much power he has over her. He’d never use it, really. He knows how unfair that would be. She has that same upper hand over him, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. They have the power to destroy each other, but Stiles doesn’t want to jeopardize the friendship they’re rebuilding if they’re just going to crash and burn. He’d only ever go for it if she made the first move, if she could just admit what they both know. She’s not an ice queen, Stiles knows this first-hand. She is multi-dimensional, complex in a way that fascinates him to no end.

 

She’s also most definitely smarter than him. He knows his intelligence is nothing to sneeze at, and she’s complimented him on it before, but he could never hope to understand half the things she takes classes for. His mind is best used for investigations and gut feelings about supernatural predators. Not that anyone ever believes him when he tells them someone is bad news.

 

Once things had ended with Malia, he found that Lydia seemed... _lighter._ He isn’t arrogant enough to assume it had something to do with him outright, but he has an inkling. He never did ask her about Parrish. Maybe he should.

 

He’s just grateful they’re getting along again, are able to look each other in the eye, even with the history between them, the knowledge that whatever they’re feeling is mutual without having to say it out loud. They can be in a room alone together again.

 

Lately, they’ve been studying in the library, but today they’re sitting in his kitchen with their textbooks scattered across the table and her feet in his lap. She’s got a highlighter cap between her teeth while she highlights something, the hot pink matching the color of her painted lips. She reaches across his arm to grab her pencil to scribble something down, then sets it in between the pages and looks up at him with her brows furrowed. She pulls the cap out of her mouth and clicks it back into place over the top of the highlighter.

 

“What?” She says, pointing the tip of the utensil at him accusingly while poking him in the stomach with her big toe. He realizes he’s zoned out again when he dares to look at her, lips pursed forward in annoyance, as if he’s in on a joke she doesn’t understand.

 

“Nothing.” Stiles murmurs, smiling down at his lap bashfully. He watches her toes wiggle, watches the sparkly material of her stockings bunch up around her ankles. She looks stunning, as usual. She’s in a jean jacket today, a ruffled, flower print dress on underneath it that falls just above her knees. Her hair is down, curled immaculately, and glowing in the dim light of the kitchen. He thinks about how much he loves her again, wishes he could let the words fall from his lips. But he won’t. Not unless she does first.

 

“I’m not gonna get any studying done if you don’t tell me why you’ve got that look on your face.” Lydia sighs, closing her textbook and her notebook, before stacking them on the table and turning to face him. She pulls her feet out of his lap and lets them sit on the tiled floor, bare and painted a navy blue. He bites his lip and drums his fingers on the table nervously.

 

“‘M just thinking, that’s all.” He settles for, avoiding her eyes this time. She kicks him lightly in the ankle.

 

“About?” Lydia  asks, but her voice sounds much gentler this time.

 

“Everything. Nothing. You.” He admits, his breath catching in his throat a little.

 

“Why am I worth thinking about?” The tilt of her mouth looks a bit wry, and self-deprecating, her chin in the palm of her hand as she stares at him. Stiles won’t stand for this.

 

“You’re the only thing worth thinking about, in my opinion.” Stiles whispers, like if he says it quietly enough she won’t hear it. She does.

 

“You didn’t answer my question, Stiles.” Lydia chastises, and he can’t tell if the blush on her cheeks is actually there or if it’s just her makeup.

 

“Let me rephrase: You’re all I think about. You’re my favorite person in the world. Everything even remotely related to you is important to me. Do you understand now?” Stiles announces, a little louder now, feeling a bit brave.

 

A silent beat passes, where she just stares at him, seemingly frozen. She blinks, once, twice, and then she reaches across the table and traces the lines on the palms of his hands, her touch feather light. He raises an eyebrow at her.

 

“I understand. What were you thinking about in _relation_ to me?” Lydia clarifies, putting her bottom lip between her teeth. Stiles takes a deep breath, preparing himself to lie. Well, half lie. He doesn’t dare say the last thing he was thinking, at least not yet. He’ll stick to a (slightly) safer thought.

 

“I was thinking about asking you if anything happened with Parrish.” Stiles says through his teeth. Lydia purses her lips, her expression incredulous. She looks angry, to put it delicately. Stiles shrinks away from her a little, but she grips his hands a little tighter so he can’t get away.

 

“Why would you even ask me that?” Her voice sounds like acid as she narrows her eyes at him pointedly.

 

“Just tell me if it did. Or didn’t.” Stiles groans, throwing his head back in frustration.

 

“It didn’t happen. Nothing happened, not that’s it any of your damn business.” Lydia hisses, finally releasing her grip on him and standing up so the chair scrapes against the tiled floor.

 

“Lyds, I - I’m so sorry, I swear. I didn’t mean to pry.” Stiles replies sincerely, his tongue feeling twisted in his mouth.

 

“I think you know _exactly_ what you meant to do.” Lydia huffs, glaring down at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

 

“Obviously I wouldn’t have asked if I hadn’t wanted the answer, you’re right. I wasn’t trying to offend you though, I just wanted to know.” Stiles admits sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

 

“Why would you want to know?” Lydia purses her lips and waits for his answer expectantly, but she clearly already knows why.

 

“I like you?” Stiles says, more like a question then a statement. He can’t meet her eyes anymore, looks at the tiled floor as if it’s personally offended him.

 

“Try again.” Lydia cocks her head to the side, waiting. Stiles looks up to weigh her expression this time. She doesn’t look angry anymore. Tentative, the clench of her jaw slackened with the corner of her mouth twitching as if she’s holding back a smile. Stiles isn’t sure what that means for him, isn’t sure what she wants him to say. But he doesn’t have another shot at this, so he takes the leap of faith he promised he wouldn’t just minutes before.

 

“I love you.” His voice wavers just slightly, but he holds her gaze this time, his eyes burning and his hands shaking. His heart is beating erratically in his chest, and he doesn’t _understand_ , doesn’t know why she wants him to voice something she’s known for years.

 

“Now that wasn’t so hard, hm?” Lydia’s smile stretches across her whole face for the first time in ages, her teeth glinting in the light. Stiles swallows hard, squeezes his eyes shut and waits for her to say something else, anything else. She doesn’t say anything. She takes a couple of steps until she can plop herself into his lap. He automatically wraps his arms around her so she doesn’t fall back. His body seems to comprehend what this means before his brain does.

 

“What?” Stiles blinks up at her slowly. Lydia rolls her eyes and plants her hands in his hair, scratching at his scalp.

 

“I’m in love with you too, idiot.” Lydia throws her head back and laughs, as if his obliviousness is the funniest thing in the world. Stiles stares at the expanse of her neck as he processes this. He reaches a hand up and traces her cheekbone.

 

“I had my doubts.” Stiles admits, but his small, timid smile disappears. He looks at her with his mouth hanging open a little, his eyes shining in the dim lights of the kitchen. He thinks it’s fitting, that they come full circle in this place. This is the place where he admitted to his father how in love with her he was, the first time. He can still picture it in his head, see the pitying smile on his father’s face. Looking back on it now, when everything isn’t perfect, but this. It’s right, righter than it felt before. It’s bittersweet.

 

The chaos around them will never stop, but this. Them. That will never falter, they will always be intertwined, irrevocably stuck together, no matter how hard they pull back each time. Stiles thinks this time is different.

 

Lydia leans in and kisses him instead of replying. It takes him aback, but it’s familiar from the first time. He falls into it easily, their tongues sliding together gently. He threads his index finger through one of her curls and pulls at it lightly, till she tilts her head back.

  
He’s right. He’s always right when it comes to her.

>>>


End file.
